Page 13 of Waiting For Ever
“Ahh . . .” He holds his hands out to his sides and tilts his head slightly. “So many things,” he claims proudly. “More than we have time to get into right now. One, though, is for sore muscles, if you care to try it out.” He raises one eyebrow in challenge, looking me in the eye now.
“I think I’ll stick with the hot one for now.” I don’t appreciate the knowing smirk on his face. But just like long explanations, this isn’t the time for my sarcastic retorts.
“Fair enough. Hop in. Use the jets if you want or just soak. I’ll be back in twenty. And Ever? Finish the damn water in my bottle. Okay?”
As he disappears around the corner again, I hastily shimmy out of my shorts and throw the towel back onto the rack and ease into the steaming water. I think I hear my legs whimper in relief. I tell myself that’s why I tolerated the indignance of it all. The relief. My legs hurt like they’ve never hurt before. I used to run regularly at home, so I’ve had muscle cramps before, but combined with the soreness of the leg day, maybe I unlocked a new level of pain. And because I want relief as soon as possible, I yank his bottle off the edge of the tub, unscrew the cap and guzzle. Not because he told me to, I remind myself childishly. Since my dad died and my mom got busier, I’ve developed issues with people telling me what to do. I’ve been making most of my own decisions since I was twelve, but I’m also smart enough to admit when someinstructionsjust make common sense.
Chapter 12
Julian
Ever is already walking better from the quick dip in the hot tub. The guilt of possibly pushing her too hard on her first day of lifting has me mentally kicking myself. I got too excited at the idea of working out with her. I lose my perspective easily with her, I remind myself. Why now? Why this girl? Is it the mirror of brokenness in her eyes? The reminder of another set of broken eyes that broke me too? Or is it the way her stormy grays seem to look right through me? Maybe it’s simply that she’s drop-dead gorgeous with her long limbs, wavy chestnut hair and pouty lips that beg to be kissed. Or the sassy wit I can’t get enough of.Or all of it.
“What?” Ever is standing in Allie’s kitchen behind me, freshly changed into sweats, her hair still wet from her shower.
My hand freezes on the cutting board where I’m chopping vegetables for dinner. “Hmm,” I answer back.Did I just say that out loud?Holding my breath, I wait for her reply.
“All of what?”
Shit!“I . . . uh . . . I guess I was thinking out loud. How embarrassing.”
“Ooh, yeah, talking to yourself.” She tsks. “Certifiable. Kiddinggg.” She singsongs it and adds, “I talk to myself too. Maybe it’s because we need expert advice.” She giggles at her own joke.
“Right.” I smirk and continue chopping vegetables, holding my breath and pleading with the gods that she won’t ask me about it again. After a pause, she offers to help instead, showing again her maturity that belies her age. And I take the bone she offers, relieved.
“So, what are we eating tonight, Chef Julie? Can I help?” She bounces up to my side and peeps over my shoulder.
Her shampoo or soap or lotion or whatever fills my nostrils and stirs my blood. It’s giving sunshine and summer air, and I love it. “Well, I thought we’d go for some pasta with vegetables. It should help with the leg cramps and dehydration. Grilled chicken for protein.”
“The legs are much better now. And I’m hydrating, I promise. What can I do to help?”
“Wanna grate cheese? There’s a block in the drawer in the fridge. Allie must have a grater in here somewhere.”
“I’m on it.”
I continue to slice and chop while she opens and closes cabinets behind me, her smell floating through the kitchen, intoxicating me. I try to focus on the sharp knife in my hand and the task before me while this enchanting young woman has me spinning and feeling clumsy. And talking to myself apparently.
Chapter 13
Everly
Embarrassment is a new one for Julian. I’ve never seen him act anything but confident, even when he stuttered on my name that first day. He rallied quickly and dubbed me Ever, which I love more than I want to admit. It’s like a special thing that’s all ours. Or maybe I just hope it is. Walking in on him talking to himself might be the cutest thing ever. Maybe it was seeing him act like a regular guy that did it. He’s always so perfect. Impeccable body, work ethic, gorgeous. It is . . . weirdly comforting to see him awkward and mumbling, but I can tell it’s new for him. Or at least not his norm. I decide to cut him some slack and change the subject. Although asking to help him cook may not be the best move. He’s a master chef by my standards. All I’ve mastered in the kitchen is PB&J, scrambled eggs and some other simple basics.
After dinner, I don’t want the night to end so I ask if he wants to watch a movie again. He hesitates for a moment, then agrees, but says he has some work to do on his laptop while we watch. There’s that perfect Julian energy again—super serious, multi-tasking professional.I pick an action movie I figure he’ll like, but even those have an element of romance in them. Points for trying.
As Julian types away on his laptop, I absently rub my calf that begins to throb again.
He abruptly pushes the laptop closed, sets it on the coffee table, gets up and throws over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”
“Want me to pause the movie?”
“Nope, I’ll just be a sec.”
And true to his word, he flies up and down the stairs in a flash and plops back down closer to me than before.
“Here, give me your leg. This will help the cramping.” I must look surprised because he adds, “It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Scoot over here.”
I inch closer so that we’re almost touching. He lifts my leg, draws it across his lap and pushes the fabric of my sweats up over my knee. I’ve never been so relieved I thought to shave. He begins moving his fingers along my calf, then unscrews the lid on the jar he brought down. He rubs the cream from the jar in his hands before placing them gently on my calf. He squeezes and tightens his grip as he moves his hands up and down my calf. The icy warmth heats and soothes the ache almost immediately, but I’m convinced the relief has way more to do with the hands applying it. I close my eyes and must’ve made an involuntary sound of relief because his movements falter for a moment. I open my eyes to find his penetrating blue orbs watching me. How long is too long to stare at each other without breathing?
